


You and Your Deatheater Father

by womenseemwicked



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter Friendship, Gen, Harry Potter Has a Saving People Thing, M/M, Minor Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Possibly Pre-Slash, Sirius Black Lives, Trapped In A Closet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 21:41:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11906757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/womenseemwicked/pseuds/womenseemwicked
Summary: An AU where Sirius and Remus adopt Harry after HP3 and Sirius doesn't die in HP5 because of this.Harry and Draco get caught in the Quidditch broom cupboard without any wands, and they bond over father figures and Azkaban and the feeling of having all the pressure in the world on you for a thing you don't truly understand yourself.





	You and Your Deatheater Father

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this with very little prep, and having not read the Half-Blood Prince in a couple years, so let me know if I made any glaring errors. Or don't, cause this is such a crack piece anyway that it's really more likely than not that I got something wrong and that fixing it will make the scene un-workable. Eh. Live and learn.

"Open the door, Malfoy."

"Very funny, Potter. What did you do?" Draco jiggles the door handle again, agitated, as Harry presses in behind him.

"What did _I_ do? What do you mean 'what did I do'? Open the door!"

"I can't, you idiot, don't you see?" Draco strains the door once more. "You _are_ a wizard aren't you? Where's your wand?"

Harry pats his pockets and groans.

"You don't have it," Draco guesses without even looking back at him.

"I left it with my school things," Harry grimaces. "I never fly without my wand. Why did I leave it with my school things?"

"You don't want me to answer that," Draco says, leaning his head against the wooden door with a thunk.

"Where's _your_ wand? You were a wizard too last I checked."

Draco mumbles something unintelligible.

"What?"

"Dropped it," Draco mutters. "When I tackled you."

Harry almost laughs. Typical.

"Yeah why did you do that anyway?"

Draco picks up his head from the door and raises an excuisitely arched eyebrow at him.

"Because you were insulting my family, Potter. Or don't you remember that far back?"

Harry rolls his eyes.

"I meant why didn't you just hex me? I didn't know purebloods even knew physical violence was an option."

Draco's other eyebrow joins his first.

"You underestimate my propensity for violence then, Potter. Although I can't imagine how."

Harry does laugh.

"Yeah how'd I do that? The only person who's got you beat for more violent acts committed against me is my cousin, and he's captain of his wrestling team at school."

"The lumbering Muggle one, right?"

"Dudley. Yeah." Harry frowns. "Wait, how do you know--?"

"Seen him on the platform a couple times," Draco shrugs. "And it's not as if you don't ever talk about him at school."

"I never realized you were listening," Harry can't decide whether to feel a bit touched that Draco remembered the bits and pieces he's heard, or afraid at the fact that if Draco's been listening in on him he may know more than Harry is strictly speaking comfortable with.

Draco rolls his eyes as if perfectly aware of all the thoughts going through Harry's head.

"Don't worry, Potter, you're not as interesting as you think you are. I only listen when I've got absolutely nothing better to do."

"All I'm worried about is how we're going to get out of this bloody broom cupboard," Harry shrugs defensively.

Draco sighs and looks back to the door.

"Yeah."

"We could try ramming it," Harry suggests.

Draco frowns at him. "We could try what?"

"Do you want to try?"

"I think I'll let you break _your_ shoulder on the door, thanks."

Harry sighs. "Prat. Okay well step out the way a bit. Come on, move over."

"I'm trying! This closet is _not_ meant for people, Potter."

"Isn't it? I hadn't noticed," Harry says cynically. He steps as far back as he can in the cramped space, breathes out short and sharp, and then scrunches his eyes closed in anticipation and rams the door with his left shoulder.

There's a crash, but Harry is pretty sure it is nothing more than all the bones in his body breaking. He lets out a breathy whimper before he's even aware of it, and someone is laughing. He looks over his uninjured shoulder to see Draco shaking with mirth and more than being annoyed or embarrassed (which he is, in equal parts), Harry realizes how very long it's been since he's seen Draco smile and for a moment he actually feels bad for the young pureblood.

"Glad my misfortune is bringing somebody pleasure," Harry says bitterly, rubbing his shoulder with a grimace.

"As long as I'm around, Potter, it always will," Draco says between laughs. Somehow it sounds more like a promise than a threat. "Merlin, I haven't laughed that hard in ages."

"Sorry," Harry half jokes. "I haven't been very funny this term, have I?"

Draco snorts. "My enjoyment of myself has nothing to do with you, Potter," he says dismissively.

"Sure it does," Harry reasons. "Why else would you have spent the first five years of our knowing each other trying to hex me every chance you got if not for pleasure?"

Draco sighs. "All right, my _lack_ of enjoyment has nothing to do with you then. Not everything revolves around you, Potter."

"I know that, Malfoy," Harry says, his voice tighter. He does tire of all of Slytherin house believing him to be some kind of egomaniac who decided to survive a killing curse and outlive both his parents just for the fame. "Family trouble, isn't it?" 

Draco frowns and glances up at him suddenly.

Harry smirks a little. "You're not the only one who can listen in on conversations that aren't theirs to hear." His smile disappears. "I'm sorry about your dad."

Draco's fine features distort into a look of pure malice.

"No you're not."

"No," Harry admits. "I'm not. But I'm sorry you have to deal with it. Think about it. If there's anyone at this school who knows what you're going through it's me; and I wouldn't wish that on anyone. Even you."

"Thanks, Potter," Draco means for it to be sarcastic, but somehow it's not.

There's silence for a while before Draco speaks again.

"You live with your godfather now, don't you?"

"Godfathers. Plural," Harry corrects him, nodding slightly.

"That's right. The werewolf was their friend as well wasn't he?" Draco can't keep the distaste out of his tone, so he moves on quickly. That isn't what he wants to talk about. "How is he? Black, I mean. After..."

Harry squashes his urge to fight Malfoy for Lupin's honor - this closet is not nearly big enough to accomodate that - and frowns when he realizes the meaning behind his question. _He's worried his father will be forever changed if he ever does come back._ Harry pauses, collecting his thoughts.

"It helps, having Lupin there. And me. Being surrounded with people he loves and who love him is really-- I think after twelve years in there he'd almost forgotten what that felt like," Harry shrugs. "He's getting better all the time though. I didn't really know him before, but Lupin seems pretty pleased with how he's coming along so that must mean something."

Draco nods. He's silent for a while.

"I know I shouldn't even be worried about that. It's not like dad is ever going to get out anyhow. Not unless-- not unless you-know-who actually does make a comeback." Draco makes delicate and fleeting eye contact with Harry.

" _Is_ he going to?" Harry asks, coldly.

Draco grimaces and shrugs. "He's trying. But you know that. Anyone who's anything more than a blind, blubbering fool knows that."

Harry nods.

"But you know better than most, I'd imagine. His inner circle has to, or what are they good for?"

"His inner circle?" Draco almost chokes. "Harry, dad's in Azkaban. We're inner nothing right now. We're lucky He hasn't bloody killed us."

Both their eyes go a bit wide at his outburst. He's said too much. Almost confessional. Did he just say "Harry?"

"I--"

"Leave it, Potter," Draco sighs. "Merlin, you're so thick I don't know how you've survived all these years. You think I'm the last word in evil because of some schoolboy rivalry we've had since father told me to befriend you in first year, but I'm not. I'm just another arsehole with overbearing fucking adults roping me bodily into a cause I didn't ask for. We're not as different as you like to think."

Harry has never felt that Draco was a _quiet_ boy exactly, but he realizes now that he's never heard him rant like this either. It strikes him that he sort of likes it. That Draco is much more astute than he's ever given him credit for, and that if only they would have taken their anger out on each other in English instead of Latin and Greek all these years perhaps they'd be-- well maybe not friends, but at least not sworn enemies.

Draco scratches vaguely at his left forearm and Harry's eyes snap to it instinctively. All the pleasant thoughts go from his mind.

 _No_ , he thinks, _we're enemies for a reason_. This is Malfoy, no matter what shit he's going through. And Malfoy is a Death Eater now.

"Least my cause doesn't brand people with skulls and snakes," Harry says, still staring at Draco's arm as if he can see the angry black tattoo there through the fabric of his robes.

Draco grimaces. "What?"

"I know you have it, Malfoy," Harry says. "I know you're one of them now."

Draco frowns and pulls his hand away from his arm. "You know nothing," he hisses.

Harry laughs drily. "You're not exactly subtle about it, Draco," he says tauntingly. "Come on, 'I'll show you mine if you show me yours,'" he quotes Barty Crouch Jr. with a thrill of vengeance, pulling up the sleeve of his own Quidditch robes to reveal the thin white scar where Peter Pettigrew's knife took his blood to bring Voldemort back over a year ago.

Draco's eyes fall to it irressistibly and he steps back slightly, a subtle move if not for the hard wooden door behind him. He hits it and is jolted to a stop. Draco swallows hard and avoids Harry's eyes.

"I'm not--" he mutters. "I told you, He doesn't trust us anymore--"

"And _I_ should? Come on, Malfoy, I've seen you showing that arm off all term. Don't lie to me. We're trapped in a closet and I've got more experience trying to kill people with my bare hands than you do."

There's a thrill of real fear in Draco's eyes and Harry feels a bit sick for putting it there, but he holds strong, his arm still held out in front of him.

"You have to promise not to tell--"

"Malfoy--"

"It's not what you think it is. I'm not-- Dumbledore knows."

Silence falls and Harry can hear his own heart pounding in the absense of any other sound.

"Dumbledore knows?" his voice breaks, surprised and a bit hurt at the implication.

Draco nods. "I'll show you. But I'm serious, Potter, if you tell anyone-- Dumbledore will do worse to you than I will."

Harry's mouth goes dry. Somehow it doesn't even occur to him that Draco might be lying. He knows what Draco sounds like, looks like, when he's lying.

He nods. "Show me."

Draco licks his lips nervously and pulls up his sleeve.

At first Harry sees nothing. It's just skin. Pale and lightly hairy with hairs the color of the hair on his head so that it looks more like Draco is glowing slightly than anything else.

But then he sees it.

Bite marks on the side of his forearm.

Without thinking he reaches out and turns Draco's arm gently to see. Draco almost pulls away, but doesn't.

The skin is dark pink and puckered. A nasty bite when it was fresh, and though it's not as old as the one of these he's seen before, it's almost identical otherwise. He runs his thumb over the mark lightly, his heart pounding.

"Greyback?" he mutters, realizing just how dry his mouth has gone. He glances up at Draco, who nods, not meeting his eyes.

"This is what the Dark Lord does when people disappoint Him," he says bitterly.

"Does anyone else--?"

"No."

"You're changing alone?"

Draco takes his arm back and shrugs the sleeve back down.

"What do you care?"

Harry shrugs his own sleeve down as well.

"I spend my summers living with a werewolf now, Malfoy, I know a thing or two about this."

Draco breathes a bitter laugh.

"Are you inviting me to join his pack or something, Potter? I don't need your sympathy and I certainly don't need Lupin's."

"No," Harry replies quickly. "I don't even know if packs are a thing. But you ought to have somebody to talk to about this at least."

"I'm fine, Potter. Just leave me alone."

Harry sighs. "You're not a monster, you know."

Draco rolls his eyes. "What makes you think I think that?"

"Monsters don't quibble and moralize and keep their condition a secret and refuse to confide because they're afraid," Harry continues, ignoring Draco's insistence that he's fine because he's very clearly not. "Fenrir made you something else, but he didn't make you him."

"I'm not afraid," Draco says firmly, refuting the only thing he can begin to.

"Then you're an idiot. Because as soon as you leave Hogwarts you know exactly what Voldemort is going to use you for." Draco shudders at the use of the name, but Harry presses on. "Unless you find someone to talk to about this, and learn to control it."

Draco is silent. Harry can tell he sees the logic in this, and doesn't have it in him to lie that he doesn't.

"Write Remus. Please. You can use my owl. No one needs to know." Harry puts a hand on Draco's shoulder and Draco meets his eyes. "You didn't deserve this punishment to begin with and you don't have to go through it alone."

Draco shakes his head with disbelief. "You're too Good for your own wellbeing, Potter."

Harry shrugs. "Gryffindor."

Draco snorts.

"So will you write to him?" Harry asks. "I'll write ahead and tell him to expect you. He always liked you as a student, you know. Often says he's sorry he never got the chance to gain your trust or respect or whatever."

"That so?" Draco looks distrustful, but smiles a bit anyhow. "He _was_ probably the best Defense professor we've had so far, wasn't he. Not that there's much competition, but-- I did like him, I just knew I shouldn't so I was a prick instead."

Harry smirks. "Is that why you're a prick to me?"

Draco laughs a little. "A bit. But also it's just so much fun."

Harry shakes his head and smiles. "Yeah fair enough."

"Merlin, is this the end of that? You're not taking pity on me so I'll stop hexing you--?"

"Of course not," Harry reassures him. "What would life be without a constant fear that your ears are about to turn into turnips? We can be allies without being nice to each other all the time, Draco." He pauses. "And you know what, I can't switch to your first name after all this time. It's just too weird."

Draco grimaces. "Yeah just stick to Malfoy, Potter. Things are better that way."

"Deal." Harry agrees. "Now lets get the bloody hell out of this cupboard before we end up best mates."

"Ugh. Yes please."

**Author's Note:**

> SuperCarlinBrothers did a theory video on Draco's "dark mark" thing from HP6 that I drew from for this. I don't really buy into it, but it's a fun theory to entertain, and works for this sort of AU. If you're interested it is here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2XYHOZNWUhM


End file.
